The Chosen Unread
by Braggadocio
Summary: I awake. I die. I am dead. How did I come to be here? Who knows. Rotting away. I sit. I rot. This place of damned souls. I await the end of the world. Such is my fate. A story of my first journey as told by the slightly crazy Chosen Undead. R&R, if you would be so kind.


**This is a story about my very first journey through Dark Souls, as told by the slightly looney Chosen Undead.**

**Please read and review, if you would be so kind.**

* * *

The Asylum

The sound of scraping. The sound of scraping.

Fingernails snapping on stone walls as they claw away, trying, hoping desperately.

The sound of crashing footsteps. Heavy, unnaturally heavy, on the other side of the wall.

The rats. The _rats_. They torment me. If I try to sleep they will come through the cracks.

They gnaw on my toes.

I have stopped sleeping. So tired. So very tired.

Curled up in my corner. I am safe here. I am entombed here. Forever to await the end of all things.

This is my fate.

* * *

Light. Sunlight. Dim, streaming down through thick clouds, blinding in the dark.

An unfamiliar figure intrudes upon my home. Quite the rude nudist, just dropping in unannounced.

I look up and see with my empty sockets, the depositor. Leaning in, then walking away, uninterested.

A glint. A gleam. I see a key, perhaps to release me from my torment. Do I wish to leave?

I hesitate a moment. My knees quiver as I stand. I am unsure of what to do.

Grab the key, unlock the door, I am soaring down the hallway as fast as my feet can fly.

Others like me, but unlike me, moaning, sighing, sobbing without tears. The sound of scraping. Escaping.

Heavy, unnaturally heavy footfalls, on the other side of the wall. I dare not look. I don't want to see.

* * *

A ladder.

Rusted rungs leading to my freedom. I climb.

The rust is scraping. The rust is scraping. I have no blood left to bleed.

I am out.

I am in.

I trade one cell for one much larger.

The remnants of an old fire. I pass it by, uninterested.

The doors loom high. The monoliths leading to my freedom.

I push. They move, as doors often do. A room.

More doors.

They lead outside. I know it.

Were my heart not still it would beat with a newfound hope.

I fly across the bricks below me. Finally, a way out.

Hideous. Unnaturally hideous creature comes crashing down from the sky.

I backpedal, unsure of what I am to do.

Raise my broken blade in defiance to this warden of damned souls.

He swings. His hammer strikes me down.

* * *

The sound of scraping. The sound of scraping.

I awaken in my cell. I shoo the rats away. Was it all just a dream?

Sunlight, blinding in the dark. An uninvited guest.

A premonition, perhaps.

* * *

The remnants of an old fire. I sit. Savor the warmth on my leathery flesh.

Warmth?

Dying embers.

The depositor has been here.

I stand, and press onward. The doors. The demon.

I flee quickly. The ground and pottery shatters behind me. Slim getaway. Gate shut behind me.

Another fire? Down in this dank, dreary? I pass it by, pressing on.

One like me, but unlike me, a bloodlust born from insanity.

I slip into a cell. Thank you for the shield, old friend.

Reckless. I charge ahead. Arrows bouncing harmlessly.

He runs in fear. Even they know fear.

A corpse. A victim. May I borrow that sword, sir knight?

I chase him down. He turns to face me. Arrow nocks. Sword flashes in the dark.

I cut deep. Groan. Gurgle. Silence.

The rush of taking a life. But then, it wasn't a life.

* * *

Otherwordly fog. I will not be deterred by vapid vapors.

Balcony. Look down. Dying cinders of the old fire below.

Look ahead through rusted bars. The depositor, taking in the sunlight.

I try to call to him. No voice comes out. Press onward.

Stairs.

I begin climbing. Something moves ahead. Narrowly dodge. Crash.

Instant renovated door.

I walk up. He is like me. Just like me. But he can speak.

Thou who art undead art chosen. Chosen to rot in this prison, perhaps.

I take the flask. I take the key. He bids me well, and so I leave.

The sound of metal. Scraping. A sword passing across a throat.

Cowards should make way for those of us with the will to live.

* * *

Ascend the stairs. Slash, groan, gurgle, silence. Open the door.

Balcony. I can see it. Finally. My freedom. So close.

Slashing, groaning, gurgling, silence.

I push through the fog and step back. Surprise. I stand on the edge of nothingness, leading to an open maw of death.

I stand there, feeling safe. A fool I am.

Jump. Smash. My bones shatter instantly.

* * *

I awake next to the dying embers. I must have nodded off.

I look down. Death awaits wearing a hideous visage.

I will not be denied.

I lunge.

I plunge.

Blade finds its mark. Deep, unearthly howl. Feel it in my bones.

I fall. It swings. I dodge away adeptly. Feels like I've done this before.

I slash, I swing, I stab, I lunge.

It falls. Dead. The inmate has taken control now.

A key from deep within its belly.

I turn. Doors.

* * *

I walk across the cobbles. Slowly. Enjoying. Tasting freedom.

I walk to the very edge, teetering above the void.

Crow, black as night. Wings a whisper of shadows. Envelops me.

Did you truly die with hope in your heart?

* * *

Firelink Shrine I

Dropped. Left. It sits and watches intently on a crumbling wall. Cocking its head curiously.

Damnable bird.

A chuckle. Dry. Strange man with sunken eyes watches me from where he sits.

Fate of the undead, right?

_Amazing powers of deduction, sir._

A fire roars to life before me. I sit, unquestioning. Warm. Inviting.

There are two bells. One above, one below.

It's easier to go down. I make my way below.

Pass by a lonely girl in a cavern. She does not speak to me. No tongue.

Seems like we are one and the same.

Descending stairs. Ancient lift.

How can this operate after more than a thousand years?

A wizard built it.

* * *

Dark. Awful. Moaning and groaning. Reminds me of the asylum.

No place like home.

I make my way down.

One sobbing over a corpse. I swiftly lift its contents. A fencing blade I'll never use.

Continue downward, deeper. Water, water everywhere.

How do I swim, again?

Rotting wooden planks. Make my way across them quickly.

Where will this path lead me?

* * *

White figure in the distance.

A woman, perhaps?

Coming this way. Floating?

By the lords.

I raise my blade. Slash. Slash-Slash.

If the empty air were my enemy, surely I'd be the victor here.

the sound of scraping metal. Scythes for hands?

Are you [I]serious[/I]?

I raise my flimsy shield in fear. It has no effect.

* * *

I awaken at the fire. Strange man chuckles at me again.

I decide to make my way along.

* * *

Graveyard? Full of discarded bones.

The ditch digger is not doing his job.

The bones move. Rebuild. Regard me. Strike.

I flee, they follow.

Leap, I feel the sting of cold steel across my back.

My spine is severed.

* * *

I awaken at the fire. Strange man chuckles at me.

Contemplate stabbing him in his giggly face. Decide against it.

Crazy bastard.

* * *

Decide to explore more.

Another man, robust. Bobbed hair and knightly armor? A cleric of Thorulund, no doubt.

Petrus of Thorulund tells me to keep a distance.

Defiant like a child. I stand before him.

A Copper coin if I leave? Done deal. Mind of a child.

* * *

I sit at the fire. Think. Decide what I am to do.

An hour passes. Skeletons. So many skeletons.

Are those stairs on the cliff over there?


End file.
